


All of my Kindness

by chaifiction



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: I'm really emotional about the boosh, M/M, dicks touch, this is the first fic I've posted since 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaifiction/pseuds/chaifiction
Summary: Vince Noir doesn't think he's a very strong person. Howard Moon strongly disagrees.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had the line "all of my kindness is taken for weakness" from the rhianna song fourfiveseconds stuck in my head and I love Vince Noir

People don’t think Vince is a particularly strong person. Sure, he’s not a wimp like Howard, he doesn’t shy or run away from challenges. But, like Howard says, he is like candy floss. He’s all fluff and glitz and glam, nothing substantial or solid. Vince Noir is a star, but the hairspray, they say, has left him with nothing much up there.

Vince doesn’t feel like that. Sometimes he wishes it was true, what with the way his brain rushes on and on all day. Sure, he likes to flit around and smile at people, and chat aimlessly to the things around him, the plants and animals and even street signs. That doesn’t say anything about his brain. Vince just likes talking to things, he likes sharing his life. If he sees something looking lonely, his brain says to him gogogo and he has to strike up conversation. Sure, he might get too connected and too sentimental but that shouldn’t say anything about how strong he is. 

At first, it doesn’t matter. Vince is happy. It doesn’t matter that Howard calls him a delicate flower, or holds him back from danger. He kinda likes it, actually. The feeling of Howard’s long and strong arms, holding him. The look of crinkled concern that breaks the look of fear on Howard’s face when someone steps to Vince. He is content to let Howard protect him, as ineffective as his methods are. 

It’s when other people begin to act the same way that it bothers him. When people look at him chatting with a fern and treat him as a child the rest of the day. When Fossil smiles at him and says “sure, Vincey” every time Vince tries to talk to him about something serious. It doesn’t feel right. That’s not who Vince is. 

He came home to the flat one day, scowling heavily. Storming through the kitchen he slammed his bag onto the counter, where Howard sat reading a jazz magazine, and continued on into the living room. Vince threw himself onto the couch, tucking his legs up under himself. His stare bored holes into the floor as his brain rushed at a million miles an hour. Howard appeared in the doorway, peering over at him.

“Alright Vince?” he called cautiously. 

Vince gave a noncommittal grunt.

Howard came to stand awkwardly behind him, his fingers dancing over Vince’s shoulder as if not quite sure whether they should land or not. They stayed like that for a moment, Vince acutely aware of his heels digging into his ass and Howard’s fluttering hand. Just as Howard’s fingers finally gathered their strength and came to a stop on Vince’s tense shoulder, he spoke. 

“Howard?”

Howard jumped, his hand flying away. Clearing his throat, he brought himself around the couch, sitting gingerly on the edge. 

“Yes, Vince?”

“Do you think I’m strong?” 

Vince’s eyes finally looked up from the ground, wide, blue and piercing directly into Howard’s. Howard considered, somewhat taken aback. 

“Well, I’ve never really seen you lift anything, but, well, you are fit…”. His ears turned pink. 

Vince shook his head vigorously.

“No, not like that. Like… as a person.” 

Howard didn’t quite know what to say. 

“Well.. I…”.

Vince shifted impatiently and winced. Howard noticed his boots and hesitantly reached out, before he could stop himself. Pulling Vince’s legs out across his own, he began to unzip the boots. Vince watched, still fuming and frustrated and a bit annoyed that Howard, like everyone else, seemed to baby him. He didn’t want to complain, though, as Howard’s big hand brushed his foot as he tugged a boot off. His ego was dented, but his mind raced along with his heart. Howard’s brow was furrowed like it often was when he protected Vince, yet despite the breathless feeling Vince got from sitting with his legs stretched out across Howard’s, he was suddenly annoyed by it rather than charmed as he usually was, and he abruptly drew his feet back. 

“Howard, do you really think I’m a… delicate flower?” His voice shook a little. 

Howard looked surprised at the expression. It had been so long ago that he had first said it. 

“Well, you’re not exactly hard, are you Vince?”

Vince huffed. 

“Yeah, but do you really think I’m so… weak?”. The last word came out small, and Vince’s eyes darted down. Howard’s eyes softened. 

“Alright, little man.”

Vince suddenly sprung to his feet, anger flashing across his face.

“I’m not a little man,” he spat, to Howard’s shock. “I’m- I’m right- Why can’t you-”  
“Vince!” Howard stood and reached out, but Vince was was gone, clumping down the hallway, one boot still on his foot. Howard stood in stunned silence, his brain traveling as fast as Vince’s.

Vince had emerged from his room an hour later. Howard was sitting on the couch, pretending to read his jazz magazine, but his mind jumped around, unable to focus on the article in front of him. He looked up as Vince came out of his room, and froze when he saw the state of him.

Vince was adorned in the tightest drainpipes Howard had ever seen him in, almost painted on, grabbing at narrow hips, sleek down the legs to a pair of towering shiny platforms. A thin, nearly see through black tee shirt clung tightly to Vince’s thin form, a sliver of white skin visible between his waistline and the hem. It dipped a bit at the neck, revealing two delicate collarbones. His hair was primped to perfection, and black liner was joined by a cluster of glitter under each eye. Silver bangles clanked together on a thin wrist as Vince strutted across the room. Beneath the makeup his face was still vulnerable.

Most people wouldn’t see it on him, but Howard knew Vince. He could see the emotion on his face, knew he was still upset but determined. As Vince headed towards the door, Howard suddenly felt a sense of urgency. 

“Vince… where are you going?” His heart was in his throat and he didn’t know why. 

“I’m going out”. Vince’s voice shook as he fled the flat. 

Howard clenched his fists as he sat back on the couch. His heart raced as he tried to make sense of the jumbled thoughts in his head. He wanted to call Vince back, to hold him in his arms and assure him that of course, he is strong. That in itself was confusing. Howard never wanted to hold someone, to have them that close to him, to feel their soft breath on his skin. He shuddered slightly as he imagined it, though surprisingly not in discomfort. 

Sitting up straight, he tried to push those confusing thoughts to the side, in favor of more pressing ones. What was wrong with Vince? Why was he so suddenly concerned with being strong? Vince was never concerned with that sort of thing. Concerned with his image, yes, but that had more to do with his hair, his style. Not his person. The only other things that ever seemed to affect Vince were the conversations he held with, well, anything. Howard felt fond as he pictured Vince’s face rising and falling, excitement and pain flashing across it in equal measure as he leaned forward to converse with a small frog, or a stone on the walkway. 

Frowning, he then pictured the responses that he often gave to Vince’s little chats or actions, or the reactions that others gave when experiencing Vince Noir. His and other’s words echoed in his mind.

“Little man… sure, Vincey… he’s so sweet… don’t tell Vince that… he won’t be able to handle that…”

Shaking his head, Howard pondered it all. So Vince thought he wasn’t strong. It made sense, what with the way people left him out of things, treated him gently, and tried to keep ugly things away from him. But this didn’t mean Vince was weak. It just meant that people loved him, and cared about him. Howard… Howard cared about Vince, but he didn’t want Vince to think he’s not strong.

The compassion that he shows to everyone around him, that’s strength. A strength Howard wishes he himself had. Most people don’t have that. It’s what makes Vince special. Howard can’t imagine how Vince could think he isn’t strong. Howard wouldn’t be much without Vince. Vince was his strength. Although Howard often tried to put on a big game, pretending to protect Vince, he only did it to be able to touch Vince in those moments. Vulnerable and scared, the feeling of Vince’s chest against his arm is safe and familiar. Not that Howard could ever tell Vince this. Although he hated seeing Vince the way he was tonight, Howard Moon was a man of pride, yes sir. 

The living room had darkened around him, and the air was still and quiet. Suddenly, the door banged open in the kitchen and the sound of heels clattered on the floor. Howard turned around and saw Vince’s thin figure silhouetted in the doorway. His legs wobbled over the high boots, and his shirt was wet from something and sliding off a shaking shoulder. Vince’s face made Howard’s heart drop to his toes and he stood. Tears brimmed over Vince’s large eyes, glitter and liner streaming down. Vince had never looked so wrecked and Howard felt as though he might die. 

“Vince…” he whispered softly. “Did… Did something happen to you at the bars?”

Vince crept into the room, shoulder shaking with tears and a cynical chuckle. 

“No, you berk,” he sniffled fiercely. “I didn’t even make it to the stupid bars.”

He stood a few feet from Howard.

“I can’t…” his voice broke. “I just can’t stop thinking about… how small I feel.”

Howard’s heart broke right then and there and his pride was nowhere to be found. He stepped forward and grabbed Vince by the arms, forcing him to look up. 

 

“Vince. Vince Noir. You are the strongest man I have ever met.”  
Vince’s eyes blinked up as him, lost and confused.

“Howard, you’re just saying that because I look so pathetic.” He wiped liner from under his eye. 

“No,” said Howard fiercely. “I mean it Vince. You’re… you’re everything. You are  
strong, far stronger than me. I don’t have any strength but what you give to me Vince. You aren’t just strong for you, you’re strong for everyone around you.”

Vince was looking at him strangely, and Howard felt something shift in his belly.  
His face was red, aware of what he had just said and how he must sound, but Vince didn’t seem to notice.

“Howard.”

Suddenly, Vince’s lips were on his and Howard’s brain didn’t even exist anymore. He could taste the salt of Vince’s drying tears, but it didn’t matter. Vince’s hands were cupping his face fiercely as their lips met again and again, quick, hard kisses from from Vince who was breathing heavily now. 

Howard sprung into action, beginning to realize what was happening. His hands had fallen from Vince’s arms and he brought them up to meet his small waist, slipping under the short hem of his shirt. The touch of skin on skin shocked Vince slightly and he leaned back, staring into Howard’s eyes. He questioned them, searching for some kind of sign of what Howard was thinking. Howard wasn’t thinking though, as he leaned in and captured Vince in another kiss, this time hungrily biting at his lips and pulling Vince closer and closer. Vince pressed his entire body against Howard’s and he found himself hyper aware of Vince’s cock pressing through his drainpipes onto Howard's leg. Blushing intensely, he leaned back, pushing Vince away slightly. 

“Vince, you know I... Well. You know I don’t have any experience…” he trailed off.

Vince was panting, looking at him reverently.

“Howard, do you want this?”

He didn’t even have to think.

“Yes. Yes, Vince.”

Vince smiled widely for the first time all day. 

“Then don’t worry.”

He leaned in to kiss Howard, softly this time, before pushing him backwards. Howard was startled to find himself falling back on the couch, but everything was pushed out of his mind as Vince clambered on top of him, forcing his head back in another fierce kiss. Vince was grabbing his desperately as though he might run away any moment, but this was not the case. 

Howard began to inch Vince’s shirt up, hands relishing every inch of pale skin they explored. Vince broke their kiss and reached for the shirt, pulling it over his head before diving back down, kissing all over Howard’s face and down his neck. Howard was painfully hard, cock straining against his brown cords. He knew Vince knew, and reveled in every moment of contact between him and the bulge in Vince’s tight jeans. His hands traveled up Vince’s chest, rough finger brushing a pointy nipple, and he knew he had found something amazing as Vince’s breath ghosted sharply against his neck with a slight moan.

Howard ran his thumbs over Vince’s nipples, tweaking and pressing in any way he can. He was hopelessly lost, but Vince couldn’t seem to care as he arched, head leaning back exposing a pale, long throat. On instinct, Howard found himself diving in and sweeping his tongue over Vince’s right nipple.

Vince cried out, in shock and pleasure. Delighted, Howard switched his mouth to the other, sucking, licking and nipping. Vince’s hand flew up to the back of Howard’s head, fingers twisting in long, curly locks and holding it firm against his chest as he groans wildly. Howard felt Vince’s other hand fumbling around his waist, feeling desperately for a button. Although he never wanted Vince to stop making the noises that he was, Howard leaned back and let Vince attack the button on his cords. Lifting his ass slightly he allowed Vince to pull down the cords and his pants quickly around his thighs. He was embarrassed, at first, as his cock stood against his belly in the cold air, but Vince was eyeing him hungrily as he fiddled with his own belt, barely moving the drainpipes down before pulling his own cock out the front. Howard couldn’t help but notice he was wearing no pants, and god, he had never seen anything more beautiful than Vince perched atop him, shirtless with drainpipes and platforms sill on, cock wrapped under his pale, thin fingers just for Howard. 

Vince leaned forward and caught his mouth in another kiss, one hand wandering under Howard’s collar, running over his chest, buttons popping open, and the other reaching down and gripping their cocks together. Howard was unable to stop the shameful groan that escaped his lips at that moment, but he felt Vince smile and knew he felt the same.

His hand went down to meet Vince’s, and their hands stroked their cocks together, fingers fumbling and joining, and the feeling was like nothing Howard had ever imagined. Vince’s mouth on his, hips grinding against Howard’s wantonly. All the control Howard Moon had ever surmised himself to have was long gone as he leaned his head back, breaking their kiss as he moaned.

“Vince, please… oh…”

Vince’s eyes were shut as he whispered in response.

“Howard… I love you.”

Howard’s world went black as he gripped Vince’s wrist tightly. 

“Vince…”. As he felt himself approaching some edge he never knew existed he was grabbed by a sudden, unexpected desire to feel Vince inside of him, gripping his hips and pounding deep inside of him. This revelation took him over and he cried out as he spilled over his and Vince’s hands, thrusting desperately upwards. Through a haze he heard Vince’s voice saying “Howard, I’m coming,” as his back arched and he too was coming over their hands and up onto Howard’s rumpled shirt. 

Vince collapsed against him, back hunched and head lying on Howard’s chest. Howard reached a weak hand up to ruffle his hair. 

“Hey Litt- Vince.” He stops himself short.

Vince looked up at him.

“Oh. Oh, Howard I’m so sorry.”

Howard felt a sense of panic rise in his stomach. Sorry? For what? Not this, oh please not this.

Vince noticed the panic on Howard’s face and quickly raises a hand to cup his cheek.

“No, no, not for this. This was… this was perfect. This was everything.”

The panic in Howard’s chest subsided. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Vince continued, sliding to cuddle up next to Howard on the couch. “You can call me little man. I actually… I actually really like it. It makes me feel like I’m yours.” 

Howard looked down at him and his heart was bursting. 

“Vince… You are mine.”

Hesitating again, Howard reached for Vince’s legs and swiveled him around, lying his calves across his own lap and beginning to unzip Vince’s platforms. Vince was looking at him gleefully and lovingly. Howard remembered what he had been about to say, and his hand paused on the zipper.

“Little man. I love you too.”

Vince’s eyes welled up, because, well, that’s Vince Noir. With all his emotion, and all of his compassion and his unabashed lack of shame. A strong man, and a wonderful, sunshiney boy.


End file.
